May 25, 2005

Force Field of Dreams or Bitch in a Bubble

Hey, kids!

Let’s play a game I like to call “The Imagine Game.”

I’m gonna present a scenario and you have to imagine what you would do. Okay?

Imagine this: it’s the day you’re supposed to move into your brand new office! Yay! New office! You and your co-workers, including one Angry Black Bitch, pack up all your computers and printers and equipment and trek off to set up your new workplace. You pop a couple of Sudafed, gulp down your second Café Americano (with an extra shot) and light up whatever it is you’re smoking these days. You’ve got work to do.

Imagine that, okay?

Now...imagine what you might do if you walked into your brand new office and found that a busted hot water pipe had sent chunks of ceiling flying down on top of your new desks! Desks that would have had your computers on them if you’d set them up last night instead of today. And water is everywhere and is gushing on your newly re-sanded and re-stained hardwood floors! Imagine the FUN of that!!!

It’s even more fun to imagine what you might do after you cleaned up the chunks of wet plaster and ooey-gooey wood only to discover that your business’ server had for some reason mysteriously died, one of your co-workers hard drives had crashed and the wireless network on two of your other computers had mysteriously stopped working. Imagine what a great first day at your brand new office that would be!

Well…you can only imagine what a certain Angry Black Bitch and the resident computer geek (that’s...um...me) did.

We played a game I like to call “The Force Field Game.”

Imagine this (it’s two games in one now...so keep up!): you’ve got a good buzz going (Sudafed, caffeine, nicotine, booze, whatever) and WHAM! here comes some bullshit and aggravation, here comes some trifling queen to wreck your night, here comes some nappy headed children to sit on your car and curse at you….. what ARE you going to do?

You throw up a force field to repel, repulse and repugn any or all of the previously mentioned assaults on your good time or your cheap buzz. The occasion or situation is flexible, but there are times when you need a force field that is not.

ABB was up first to strut her stuff as she demonstrated her force field tactics.

She begins by pointing to her expertly pedicured toes, shod in the cutest of shoes, of course:

She then raises her finger higher, drawing up her force field. The anticipation is exciting. You worry if she points that finger at you if you will be decimated by the energy she’s conjuring around her:

And the camera angle swoops up, a bitch snaps her fingers, flips her wrist and clenches her fist in defiance, cause now, honey, you’ve got:

A Bitch in A Bubble

This is no ordinary sucking-helium Glenda-the-dumb-bitch floating-around wasting-time on some cheap-shoes bubble, either. With a “shoddy-sha” an Angry Black Bitch will float away from your tore-up ass, not thinking about what bullshit brought you around to interfere with her good time. This bubble is also terribly offensive (however you choose to pronounce it). She will roll up over your ass, left-to-right, side-to-side, front-to-back and the damage inflicted is irreversible, irrevocable and irreconcilable. You are done, honey. Go home and heal.

Imagine which strategy she employs most often?

Well, I felt like a rank amateur after a demonstration like that. Granted, I have some fair-to-middlin’ force field powers, but nothing to that scale. When asked to demonstrate my own abilities I decided to take an alternate route.

Rather than quality, I’d choose quantity.

The Two Fister

My first force field is much more offensive than defensive. Clutching my fists and protecting my eyes, nose and mouth, a radiant beam of maliciously hostile insincerity issues forth, rippling through time and space, repelling all who would attempt to gain my favor, waste my time or kill my buzz. It’s not the best tactic, but it does work.

There are also other situations in which two fists come in quite handy: compulsive alcoholic consumption and aggressively nasty mansex. Imagine which one I prefer? You’re right: both!!!!!

The one drawback to the double fisted approach is that it essentially hides my face. And while you may have already gathered that I’m a drunken slut -- I am, essentially, a vain, drunken slut. In those situations when I don’t mind a little attention, but it’s still nice to keep a little distance, I employ:

Glitter Shield!

Glitter Shield! is the best! Its pastel tones warm my just-this-side-of-Wednesday-Addams-complexion and adds a bit of stardust to every occasion. One could say that such an outlandish display is simply a demonstration of an individual with a shocking lack of self esteem and deep emotional problems...but I’m all glittery, so who cares? Do you care? Please tell me you care. Please!!!!!!!!!!

Um...

Hi!

So that’s what we did to blow off some steam after a day of mess and gaum. Oh! And all the computers are working, except for the server – and the computer man is coming early tomorrow morning to fix that. So, I’m off to bed early, with fists unclenched by the way, after a long bike ride.

I imagined that it was better to chase after the sunset than chase after some trouble.

OH!!!! If you want to waste valuable hours when you could be working or teaching children to read and stuff, just to take gratuitous photos of yourself and then test your PhotoShop mettle, please do so!

You can send your images to gadfly@robthurman.com. Tell me about your force field power and I’ll post them lickety-split. That is, if the computers are still working.